Time poems
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To his unconstant Friend
© Henry King
But say thou very woman, why to me
This fit of weakness and inconstancie?
What forfeit have I made of word or vow,
That I am rack't on thy displeasure now?
Memory
© Leon Gellert
The tangled twilight of your hair
Blew soft against my face,
Ah! We were young and you were fair,
This was the time
And this the place.
"If I Must Go"
© Sara Teasdale
IF I must go to heaven's end
Climbing the ages like a stair,
Be near me and forever bend
With the same eyes above me there;
Italy : 42. Naples
© Samuel Rogers
This region, surely, is not of the earth.
Was it not dropt from heaven? Not a grove,
Citron or pine or cedar, not a grot
Sea-worn and mantled with a gadding vine,
Nathan The Wise - Act III
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
And when this moment comes,
And when this warmest inmost of my wishes
Shall be fulfilled, what then? what then?
The Glory Of Age
© Edgar Albert Guest
"What is the glory of age?" I said,
"A hoard of gold and a few dear friends?
When you've reached the day that you look ahead
And see the place where your journey ends,
When Time has robbed you of youthful might--
What is the secret of your delight?"
The Lady A. L. My Asylum In A Great Exteremity.
© Richard Lovelace
Let me leape in againe! and by that fall
Bring me to my first woe, so cancel all:
Ah! 's this a quitting of the debt you owe,
To crush her and her goodnesse at one blowe?
Defend me from so foule impiety,
Would make friends grieve, and furies weep to see.
Dan's Wife
© Anonymous
Up in early morning light,
Sweeping, dusting, "setting right,"
Oiling all the household springs,
Sewing buttons, tying strings,
Dancing
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
DANCING! I love it, night or day:
There's nought on earth so jolly,
Whether you straightly glide with May,
Or madly whirl with Molly,
Fallen In The Night!
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Pelting, undermining, loosening, came the rain;
Through its topmost branches roared the hurricane;
Oft it strained and shivered till the night wore past;
But in dusky daylight there the tree stood fast,
Though its birds had left it, and its leaves were dead,
And its blossoms faded, and its fruit all shed.
King Billy's Skull.
© James Brunton Stephens
THE scene is the Southern Hemisphere;
The time oh, any time of the year
Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth
© Ovid
The End of the Ninth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
With My Fatherland
© Hovhannes Toumanian
Your wounds are countless, O my land, yet still alive are you.
The cherished words we have waited for are already breaking through
Your lips compressed with sorrow; we believe that on the way
Destined to you by God and Fate-those words you'll find and say.
We wait with fervour for your call-anon, Anon we hear it;
You will become a promised land, free both, in flesh and spirit,
The Rain Poured Down by Dan Gerber: American Life in Poetry #18 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
Every reader of this column has at one time felt the frightening and paralyzing powerlessness of being a small child, unable to find a way to repair the world. Here the California poet, Dan Gerber, steps into memory to capture such a moment.
The Rain Poured Down
The Treasure
© Edith Nesbit
UNDER our lead we lie
While the sun and the snow go by,
And our shrouds lie close, lie close,
Like the leaves of a shut white rose
That knows not what summer knows
Before it is time to die.
The Ode of Tarafah
© Tarafah ibn al Abd
A young gazelle there is in the tribe, dark-lipped, fruit-shaking,
flaunting a double necklace of pearls and topazes,
Flight of the Wild Geese
© William Ellery Channing
Stirred above the patent ball,
The wild geese flew,
Nor near so wild as that doth me befall,
Or, swollen Wisdom, you.
Longfellow
© Henry Van Dyke
In a great land, a new land, a land full of labour
and riches and confusion,
Where there were many running to and fro, and
shouting, and striving together,
In the midst of the hurry and the troubled noise,
I heard the voice of one singing.
Do You Not Father Me
© Dylan Thomas
Do you not father me, nor the erected arm
For my tall tower's sake cast in her stone?
